


Summer Nights

by ggfoye



Series: Feysand One-Shots (Fluff, Smut, Angst) [6]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Porn, Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Jealous Rhysand, Jealousy, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, POV Rhysand (ACoTaR), Porn With Plot, Pre Mating Bond, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, The Summer Court (ACoTaR), happy ending but not really, honestly a bit sappy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggfoye/pseuds/ggfoye
Summary: [+18] The Summer Court famous "toasting chapter" reimagined and told by Rhysand's point of view. What would happen if after they argued over their jealousy over one another, they had decided to give into the growing sexual tension.One-Shot.I do own any of the characters, Sarah J. Maas does.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Feysand One-Shots (Fluff, Smut, Angst) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942270
Comments: 9
Kudos: 94





	Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter turned out to be way longer than the other ones I’m used to posting, but I started writing it and before I knew it’d turned into a book lol either way hope you guys enjoy this unusually long smut ;)

I was starting to get worried. It had been a while since Feyre had left with Tarquin for a “private tour” on the Summer Court's treasure room. To be honest, I wasn't expecting much from that plan, but we had to start somewhere.

No—I was much more concerned with her, all giggly and all over Tarquin's charming ways.

I knew I had no right to. She was free to date, flirt and fuck whomever she wished to. But seeing her that morning, so adamantly ignoring me, arms in arms with him; so graciously wearing the colors of _his_ court... _smiling_ at him—it set off some deep, primal emotion in me. It was ugly.

Burning ice rage rushed through my veins in that moment, and it was a miracle Tarquin's head was still stuck to his neck. All that and I hadn't even allowed myself to think of the day before—when she so blithely told him he'd be so _easy_ to fall in love with.

Those words—I hadn't even let myself digest them. I wouldn't bear it.

The sound of her steps became louder and more discernible, and short after she opened the door to find me casually lounging on her bed, looking way more relaxed than I could ever be, given the situation. She took one look at me and spat, "What do you want?"

The unnecessary strength and incisiveness she put into shutting the door was obviously intentional.

"Flirting and giggling with Tarquin did you no good, I take it?", I asked, and she threw something onto the bed beside me.

"You tell me."

I sat up and opened the box, already knowing that—"This isn't the Book."

"No, but it's a beautiful gift."

It was. The necklace was clearly lavishing, no doubt a precious family heirloom. And he'd just handed it to her after one afternoon in her presence. I couldn't blame him.

"You want me to buy you jewelry, Feyre, then say the word," I derided, "Though given your wardrobe, I thought you were aware that it was _all_ bought for you."

"Tarquin is a good male—a good High Lord. You should just ask him for the damned Book."

Great. Now she was the one giving rein to his flattering.

I snapped shut the lid with a thump. "So he plies you with jewels and pours honey in your ear, and now you feel bad?"

"He wants your alliance—desperately. He wants to trust you, rely on you."

Rationally speaking, I liked Tarquin. An alliance with him would be very much welcomed. But we didn't have time and after the day I'd had, my opinion of him was biased and clouded by those nasty feelings in my gut.

"Well, Cresseida is under the impression that her cousin is rather ambitious, so I'd be careful to read between his words."

"Oh? Did she tell you that before, during, or after you took her to bed?", she asked, and the sharp, peeved tone in her voice caught my attention.

I stood up slowly from the bed. "Is that why you wouldn't look at me? Because you think I fucked her for information?"

"Information or your own pleasure, I don't care," she rasped, too deliberately indifferent to sound convincing.

I came around the bed and stopped only a few inches away from her. I could see her forcing herself to stand her ground.

"Jealous, Feyre?"

"If I'm jealous, then you're jealous of Tarquin and his honey pouring."

Undoubtedly. Still—

"Do you think I particularly like having to flirt with a lonely female to get information about her court, her High Lord? Do you think I feel good about myself, doing that? Do you think I enjoy doing it just so you have the space to ply Tarquin with your smiles and pretty eyes, so we can get the Book and go home?"

"You seemed to enjoy yourself plenty last night."

I couldn't hold back the snarl that came out of me. I did no such thing. All night long, my mind had been on her and what she'd said to Tarquin. I could barely believe Cresseida had bought into my flirting act.

"I didn't take her to bed. She wanted to, but I didn't so much as kiss her. I took her out for a drink in the city, let her talk about her life, her pressures, and brought her back to her room, and went no farther than the door. I waited for you at breakfast, but you slept in. Or avoided me, apparently. And I tried to catch your eye this afternoon, but you were _so good_ at shutting me out completely."

"Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin to get in?"

Her words hit me harder than they should have. I had to bite back the urge to let my powers run free. My magic was begging to be released due to all the tension building up. The darkness of lovers, I realized—it wanted out. My breathing became uneven from the effort it took me to pull myself together.

"What got under my skin is that you _smiled_ at him," I rasped, unable to hold back.

The smile she'd given him—she'd never offered me anything close to it. Or anyone else, for that matter. And the fact that it was so _easy_ for her to just give it away to him, like it was nothing, like it wasn't something I'd been fighting to get out of her for _months_. The fact that the person I was angry at was not her, or him, but _me_ ; for not being worthy of that smile. For not being worthy of her...

After that, it wasn't too hard for her to come to the obvious conclusion—

"You are jealous," she said quietly, sounding a bit shocked. Like she hadn't believed it at first, but then it became too striking not to take notice.

"Are you surprised?", I murmured, seeing no point in denying it.

The small space between us carried a heavy atmosphere—it was so tense it was almost palpable.

She seemed to think about it for a second. "No," she gulped, "But..."

"But?", I encouraged her.

"You like to play games. I wasn't sure...," she shook her head, appearing to have trouble organizing her thoughts or picking the words. "And you play them to keep me sane—I appreciate it."

"My being jealous is not part of any game, Feyre," I said solemnly, hoping this piece of honesty was one I could offer her for now.

Feyre gaped at me with confusion, then daze. She glanced once at my lips and I could almost hear the sudden internal agitation that was taking over her. I could see she was still trying to process, understand my words, searching for some hidden truth or meaning. I let her sort it out for herself.

"I was, too," she finally said, avoiding my eyes, like she'd been battling on whether to admit it or not. "With Cresseida. I... it's selfish, I know. But I think... I think I liked the idea of you and me, being alone, together. And..."

I didn't smirk or make any smug expressions. I just waited patiently, feeling the air grow even thicker between us. This wasn't our usual teasing and flirting. She almost never opened up like that, and she was obviously struggling to put the words out—I wasn't going to make it even harder for her.

"And the thought of you, and her. The thought of seeing it, or... _hearing_ it," she mumbled, tilting her head softly in the direction of our shared wall. Oh. "It upset me. That's why I left earlier yesterday."

"Feyre, I would never...", I began, but she quickly cut in.

"It doesn't matter. It's not like I'm expecting anything from you."

"What _are_ you expecting?", I dared ask.

Against all _my_ expectations, Feyre's eyes met mine and she took one step forward—the only small one that still existed between us. We shared our breaths now, and my whole body reacted to her intoxicating scent, drawing me closer to her. But I waited.

Her hand lifted up to my chest, barely touching me, and her eyes accompanied it as her fingers trailed the embroideries on my tunic leading up to my shoulder. I could hardly breathe.

This was _Feyre_. My mate. Touching me. Watching me. With her heart beating fast _for_ me.

I didn't dare give into any sort of hope that this was anything but a physical desire. And I'd been right to do so, because then—

"More games," she responded, slightly short of breath.

I gulped, trying not to be or at least not to look too disappointed.

"I can play at any game you'd like, Feyre darling," I abided.

Her eyes twinkled with the implied challenge in my saying and she exhaled unevenly. Seeing her suddenly so unbalanced reacting to me was exhilarating. At least in this area I affected her as much as she affected me. Or almost.

Now her thumb was tracing soft circles on my throat, intended especially to send shivers down my spine with the tickling touch. I hadn't dared touching her yet—I let her do her own exploring until I felt she was sure enough that she really wanted to keep this up.

Feyre looked at me from under her eyelashes. "Are you still going to be flirting your way into Cresseida's good graces tomorrow?"

I could see she was hesitant to ask—almost like she already knew the answer, but didn't want to hear it. "I'll do whatever it takes to get that Book," I replied honestly.

Feyre's fingers tensed on my throat for a second, but then she nodded and continued.

"Good," she said, "me too."

I shivered internally and brushed the thought aside. Because I knew exactly what that meant, and that there was a good probability that Feyre might do it. Not that I would tell her not to—no, never. But I knew that if she thought it might help our cause, she'd do it in a blink. She would sacrifice herself—her _body_ —and her still poorly put-together mental stability.

"I... I just need one thing first," she said, unsure.

"Anything," I said without even thinking about it.

Her hand fell from me and she looked down. Whatever it was, it was either too intimate or too intimidating for her to say keeping eye contact. Curiosity filled me to my bones.

"If I have to do this tomorrow... if I... I don't...", she stuttered; then took a deep breath, "I don't want him to be the first. After Tam... after everything. If he were to be, I don't think I'd be able to... I don't think I could..."

She was nervous, and it broke my heart. I didn't want her to do it. I didn't want her to _have_ to do it. But it wasn't my place to say anything or ask that of her. It was her choice. It would always be her choice. And I wouldn't judge her, regardless of what she decided.

I gripped her chin and lifted it up until she looked at me. Her eyes were reluctant, battling.

"Ask, Feyre."

A while after, she gulped, then murmured, "I'd much rather it be you."

My whole body went still, even though I was expecting that. So I nodded. I would do this for her. It wouldn't be the way I'd wanted it to be, or planned it to be if it ever came to happen—but I would do it for her. If that's what she needed—asked—of me, I wouldn't deny her. If that's what it took to keep at least a few shreds of her sanity while she gave herself to...

I brushed the thought aside. I couldn't bear reflecting on it. My mate, my strong, selfless mate, going to bed with a male to help us win a war. The cruel, ironic parallel wasn't lost on me.

Knowing there was no way I'd leave her hanging, I tried to focus on the fact that she wanted _me_ to be her first after Tamlin. That she _trusted_ me enough to bear that burden with her. I tried to focus on the fact that even if it was a rational, practical decision, her body still reeked of lust.

I slid my hands softly up her arms, and felt her slightly shivering under me, so I stopped moving. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said firmly. She wasn't trembling with doubt, I realized—it was desire. However, she quickly stiffened after. "Please, don't feel like you have to..."

She was worried about _me_. Worried that I might not want it and that I might be giving into it unwillingly. I felt a wave of guilt streaming down our bond, and I knew she realized that this was my first time too. After _her_. After Amarantha.

I didn't have to read her mind to know she was considering whether or not she was acting like the late queen who abused me for half a century. And it pained my heart that she would ever consider that. That she would ever come to think that she wasn't the most treasured and fancied thing to ever enter my life—that she could ever be compared to someone who tortured me and violated me. When she was the reason I still breathed, survived after all those years. When I'd gladly go through all of them again if it meant I'd find her in the end.

"Feyre," I interrupted her, gently but firmly, cupping her face in my hands, "Don't _ever_ feel like you're not wanted—not by me."

I could've sworn I saw something glitter in her eyes. But I didn't want her to be sad. Not right now. So I forced myself to loosen up, and pressed start on our game, trying to ease her into it, to make it easier for us.

"Now, let's make the best of this, shall we?", I purred, slowly leaning towards her neck.

Her breath caught in her throat as I lightly pressed my lips to her skin, trailing up to her ear. I bit on her earlobe gently and she sighed, finally seeming to relax. I brushed her hair away from her face to make more room for me to explore, savoring the intoxicating taste of her skin, swirling my tongue over the sensitive spots on her neck and smelling the growing arousal in the air—coming from both of us.

Before we could enter truly dangerous territory, I pressed pause.

"If you ever feel like stopping, please..."

"Shut up," she cut in breathless, quickly grabbing my face and eagerly pressing her mouth to mine.

All reason and caution was thrown out the window when I felt her lips on me. She kissed me desperately, hungrily, even a bit angrily, I thought. But I gave it all back to her with pleasure, venturing my tongue inside her mouth like it was finally coming home. She moaned unevenly and my senses exploded.

My hands found her waist with urgency, pressing her against me, wanting not even one inch of space between us, and her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. Our kiss was brutal, laced with months of teasing and provocations and growing tensions. Her fingers threaded in my hair anxiously and my hands went down lower, feeling her ass, the back of her thighs... that dress was killing me. It was taunting me with her perfect figure, yet never enabling me to reach it.

"Allow me," I groaned, gripping the zipper in the back. I paused for a second, giving her time to back down, but then continued when she didn't.

It slid down, pooling at her feet. She was magnificent. I was left so mesmerized I wasn't sure if I'd said it out loud or sent it down the bond, but she blushed a little in response. It only made me more mad about her. I'd seen her before, but never allowed myself to lust so openly and unreservedly.

She was wearing a turquoise blue lacy corset lingerie. I didn't dare think of why she had decided to wear it that day, or why she'd picked that color—one of the Summer Court colors—specifically.

The grunt that came out of me was purely animalistic, but she grabbed the bottom of my shirt before I could pull her to my arms again. I helped her remove it to speed things up. And when her warm hands found my naked torso, I thanked the Cauldron that she'd decided to take it off. Every nerve in my body lit up under her touch, and for one second, I had truly no doubt that she was made for me.

She took my lips on hers again, seeming as outraged about the distance between them as I was. Her hands now explored every corner of my exposed skin, making my blood boil in my veins and sending it all straight down to my cock. Her effect on me was overpowering every part of my being.

My mouth trailed down her jaw, sucking gently on her skin, marking its way down to her neck again. I explored her waist and back as my tongue drew circles on her throat. When my hands reached the side of her breasts as my thumbs stroked her front, she panted in anticipation.

A tense chuckle came out of me, but I didn't make her wait too long. I cupped her breasts and felt her nipples hardening under the thin fabric. The sound that left her lips made me shiver and automatically grip her rougher, which only got even more response from her. She pulled on my hair, taking it out on me, pressing her body closer to mine and exhaling a long startled breath when she felt how hard I was against her.

"Still think I'm just playing pretend?", I grunted, husky, stroking my nose on the nape of her neck and inhaling her.

"If that is you pretending, we can play as much as you want."

Cauldron, I loved her.

Barely able to contain myself, I gripped her thighs and pulled her up as she wrapped her legs around me. The sudden contact of our heat cores together made us both moan in relief, and I clamped her against the wall. There was a loud thump, the sound of some object or furniture or decoration crashing down on the floor, but we didn't care. My hardness was pressed brutally against her spread legs and her scent had become pungent, overfilling the room and my mind, leaving me unable to think straight.

I needed to find some self-control. But I couldn't leave her warmth, her skin, not when every ragged breath coming from her called out to every cell in my body. I wanted so desperately to feel her, taste her, like I'd never wanted anything more in my life. Her entire existence sang to my mine, drawing me permanently at her mercy. I didn't mind. I welcomed it.

"Let me touch you, Feyre,” I pleaded, hearing the desperation outpouring from my own voice.

She halted for a second, then leaned back enough to make room for my hand to slip in. She wanted it as badly as I did, if the wetness on her panties was any indication. I smirked triumphantly, but did not go through with her implied request.

Instead, I put her down on the floor, and before the frustration I felt shimmer through our bond could settle in, I quickly turned her on her back. Her face rested on the wall and I pressed my dick on her ass, unable to lose the friction of our bodies colliding. My hand found her breasts again as I bit gently on her shoulders. I fondled her nipples between my fingers and she closed her eyes, moaning more unrestrained. The sounds tugged on the tight grip I had over myself and I thrusted forward involuntarily, making my teeth sink into her skin further. Her ass tilted up as if to accommodate my bulge better, and I knew she hadn't minded the slightest bit.

But I drove one of my hands further south and sensed the expectation coming from her as she opened her eyes and gulped.

The first stroke against her heated core drew moans from both of us. It was only over her panties, but I hadn't been able to hold myself back when I felt just how soaked they were. I thought I'd sensed slight embarrassment down the bond, so I made sure to let her know just how much I reveled in her craving for me.

_You don't know how many times I've dreamt of feeling you like this._

Her arousal spiked at my words and I continued my exploration of her ears, neck, breasts, stomach, anything I could get a hold on. My fingers slipped under her panties and she gasped.

My insides went into combustion when I finally touched her. She was warm and soft and my fingers almost immediately entered her due to how how slick it was.

I didn't ease into it. I had the feeling she wouldn't have the patience for it today. So I stroked her roughly, drawing circles on her folds, always pressuring that sensitive spot that made her flinch in delighted desperation and let out the most delicious sounds.

Her hand found my neck and she turned her head to search for my lips to muffle her uncontrolled moans. I happily abided.

I felt her mental walls open wider—an invitation I gladly accepted.

 _Please_ , she thought. Even inside her mind her voice was shaking.

I drove my fingers lower and teased at her entrance, pushing an inch, then pulling back. I repeated that slow torture four times before she grunted in frustration, pulling on my hair. A hoarse chuckle came out of me and I gave into her desperate pleas.

Two fingers plunged inside her roughly, curling towards that sensitive spot and pressing it as soon as they entered. She cried out and her head gave out, resting back on my shoulder. I had to support a bit of her weight so she wouldn't just crumble down to the floor. The sight of her legs trembling to the point of failing her was something I'd never forget as long as I lived.

Beginning to move them, I steadied her body clamping her between me and the wall. I had no doubt she could feel my cock throbbing anytime she moaned a bit too loud or panted a little too desperately.

Inside her mind, there was nothing coherent, though I was too caught up on the physical plane. It was mostly pleas and growls and—

 _Rhysand_.

She didn't even have to say it out loud to make shivers rush down my spine. Her calling my name in pleasure would forever be my favorite sound, and I made it my goal to hear it again. I started thrusting my fingers harder and faster inside her and stretched my thumb so it'd stroke her clit at the same time.

She was now almost screaming. Her hands reached my back from behind and she dug her nails on my flesh, having me thrust against her ass reflexively.

My other hand began clipping her nipple between my knuckles and rubbing them against my calluses and her stomach suddenly tensed. She was close, really close. I was about to witness Feyre climaxing and I could barely wrap my head around it—how many times I'd dreamt of that sight. And it'd be for me. On my hand.

And then she did it again, only out loud.

"Shit, Rhys..."

I kissed her neck, moving frantically inside her. I could feel her muscles desperately clenching my fingers. It was overwhelming.

 _That's it_ , I moaned inside her mind. _Let go, Feyre_.

As soon as she heard her name, she came undone—shaking and crying out, holding my shoulders for support because her knees had given out. I pulled out of her slowly as she let out a gasp.

Feyre was still catching her breath when I picked her up, walking towards the bed. She dove her face on the curve of my neck as I carried her, nudging her nose lazily on my skin. It pleased me to no end. 

When I set her down on the bed, I took a few moments to stamp the image onto my brain—Feyre blushed and puffing, her hair grazing wildly and lovely on her cheeks, her lips slightly red and swollen; and her thighs... damp with her own juices. It was heavenly.

"You're overdressed," she said.

I laughed and snapped my fingers, and all my clothes were gone.

Feyre barely stood a fight against her own will, as her gaze went straight to my painfully erect cock. I smirked, "Mouthwatering, you say?"

Her eyes burned through mine and she casted me out of her head.

"Oh, come on!", I complained, still laughing, and crawled over her body, standing right on top of her. "Impressive, though. Now let me in again," I asked.

"No."

"Please, Feyre," I begged, pouting. She rolled her eyes, but yielded enough to open a tiny breach. "Thank you."

"Now... can you get me out of these too?", she said, pointing to her lingerie.

I grinned. "Gladly." As soon as it was gone, my gaze lingered on her breasts. "Mmm."

"Mouthwatering, you say?", she raised her eyebrows.

"You wouldn't need to go through my mind to guess that's what I was thinking, though."

I could've stopped her, but I wanted to see where this was going when she flipped me over, sitting on my lap. I barely had the time to process it, though, because then her mouth assaulted mine, kissing me so eager and unrestrained I wasn't sure this wasn't a dream anymore. Though, even if it was, I was sure as hell going to enjoy it.

Her legs straddled me in place and her hands lightly scratched my stomach, as if she was claiming territory. Our tongues battled each other maddeningly as if time was running out.

I gripped her ass and slid her up, rubbing her against the demanding hardness underneath, urging for some friction. Moaning inside her mouth, I was about to lose my mind again as she repositioned herself so she could stroke me between her folds. It wasn't too long before she started panting again.

"I should make you jealous more often," I joked in between kisses and she groaned. I was feeling a bit taunting, so I pressed further, "Should I get Cresseida to join us?"

However I thought she was going to react, it wasn't by stopping and sitting up to growl and look daggers at me with primal fire in her eyes. Okay, so I _had_ underestimated just _how_ jealous she'd gotten.

"Should I get Tarquin?", she plied coolly.

My eyes narrowed—but then I simply purred, "I'd rather not. I want you all to myself."

More true than she could ever imagine.

Feyre's smirk back was feline, and I was in no way prepared for what she would say next. "I want to ride you in ways she could only dream of. In ways you'd never let her."

My heart beat furiously in my chest at her words. I could feel my pupils dilating and darkening my violet irises. She had no idea how irretrievably she had me. How wholly I belonged to her.

I chuckled hoarsely. "You can fuck me however you'd like, Feyre darling. I'm at your disposal."

Her expression became predatory, and her lips took mine against them again. Though this time, they began trailing their way down, and I could barely believe my eyes when I realized what was about to happen.

Feyre only glanced at me once from under her lashes, her eyes telling me exactly what she was so eager to do.

When she took me inside her mouth, the whole world disappeared. There was nothing else but me and her, and the night sky that suddenly surrounded us. She pressed one hand to my stomach as the other moved on the base and balls, and I saw stars. She moved like she'd been hungry for decades and I was the feast that she'd luckily come across.

My toes curled and my hands gripped her hair looking for something to hold onto as unimaginable pleasure rushed through my veins. It was torture, and it was heaven. Everything started and ended in her. She licked me once, grazing her teeth softly and I almost came, right then and there. But I had to hold back. There was no way I'd miss the chance to come inside her.

_Wait, Feyre._

She slowed down and looked up at me. The sight, again, almost sent me.

_Come here. Let me come inside you._

A visible shiver went down her spine as she heard my words. She reluctantly pulled me out of her with a sound pop, then climbed up to me, pressing a soft kiss on my lips so that I could taste myself on her—which reminded me of some priorities.

"Your scent is driving me insane," I groaned airily. "Let me, Feyre."

She leaned back a bit. _Let you what?_

 _Taste_ you, _silly._

I knew her all too well not to realize she was about to give up her turn so that I could finish. I would let her do no such thing. Before she could open her mouth, I pinched on her bundle of nerves and she gasped. I immediately felt the surprised euphoria that she unwittingly sent down the bond and smirked.

_Come here._

She was less hesitant now, and so I took the opportunity to grab her waist and pull her to me.

"What are you doing?", she asked startled.

"Just trust me," I said.

I could see the moment she understood what I was planning, because she gulped in expectation and her eyes widened a bit, taking on the darkest shade of blue I'd ever seen on her. I sat her down on top of my face and settled her legs on both sides of my neck, and she gaped at me in both tension and excitement.

"Just relax," I whispered, never looking away from her stare.

My mouth was already watering with her scent so close to me. But when I finally tasted her—there were no words. She was divine. My imagination did her no justice, it was better than anything my mind could've come up with. And her face—Cauldron, I wish I could ask her to paint it for me. Her mouth had dropped into an O and her head fell back as she moaned.

As she started to loosen up, her fingers threaded on my hair and her hips began moving against my face. It was glorious.

My tongue flicked on her clit mercilessly and half of my face was covered in her juices. But she really started losing it when I forced my tongue inside her, thrusting it in and swirling it however I could. One of my hands lowered from her waist and my thumb pressed on that sensitive spot. She bit her lip until it drew out blood, but it didn't hold her back long enough to contain the loud moan that came out of her when her body started shaking again. I pinched the tiny flesh and her back arched down as she came all over me, gripping on my hair and thinking only of one thing—my name, over and over again.

When she tried to slide away, I tightened my grip on her waist and licked frenziedly on her now oversensitive clit.

"Rhys, Rhys!," she pleaded. For what, I had no idea, but she wasn't trying to get away from me anymore.

My teeth bit her gently and she came again, screaming and letting herself down on my chest.

Feyre pulled her hair back from her eyes and gaped at me almost in shock, fighting for air. I smirked cocky and licked my lips, then wiped my face with my fingers and sucked on them. She looked greatly appalled.

 _You are..._ , she thought, but then shook her head in disbelief.

"Amazing? Incredible? ‘The best lover a female can ever dream of’?", I teased her.

She rolled her eyes, but soon enough abided. _Yes_.

My grin grew bigger and I could've sworn I heard her heart skip a beat. Though I also thought that wouldn't be uncommon given her current physical state, as she was still panting a bit.

Feyre broke away from my stare and slipped back, taking my cock in her hand and sliding it inside her. We couldn't help but grunt at the feeling. I was inside her. Inside of my mate. And she was unusually tight, given that her muscles were still very well clenched from her last extremely intense orgasms.

I didn't move as much as my body begged to, seeing in her face she would need a few seconds to adjust. While she closed her eyes and breathed in and out, stretching around me to accommodate me, I patiently waited, caressing her thighs tenderly. Her eyes met mine again and I heard her mental nod, telling me I could start moving.

Surely enough, I began slowly as she accompanied me, following my rhythm. Though she was still a bit tensed around me, I was sliding in and out of her easily, hitting her end and back. It was electrifying, especially after having postponed my release for so long. I was as hard as a rock and I thought that never had a female had so much power over my bodily reactions.

We were like magnets, always reacting to one another, and I could tell she felt it too, even if she couldn't quite grasp the meaning and depth of it yet. I knew it, because shortly after, Feyre was there with me again. I could sense it through the bond, along with her complete and utter disbelief that she could _still_ be that inflamed after everything. Of course, I couldn't explain it to her how it was the mating bond working its ways through her.

But I kept at a reasonable pace until she expressed that she was comfortable with more, which didn't take too long, and it almost carried a tone of impatience. I held back a smirk.

 _There's no need to hold back. I'm alright._

And with that, I flipped her over again, burying myself deep inside her and drawing out a gasp from her. My own moans were becoming less and less restrained. I heard the words floating in her mind—harder, faster—and my body completely took over, silently agreeing.

Feyre scratched my back whenever a wave of pleasure washed over her, pulling me further towards the edge each time. As much as it was getting particularly hard to breathe, I took her lips in mine, knowing our encounter was coming to an end and I had no idea when—or worse, _if_ — we'd be having another one.

But I didn't allow myself to think about that, not while I fucked her senseless, hearing her call out my name so much in her head that she seemed to forget her own.

Aside from the obvious physical signs—my breathlessness, trembling limbs and genuine desperation as I thrusted into her—, we both realized how close I was when night started pouring out of me. Feyre looked around in a daze, and it was still wondrously mind-blowing to me every time she looked at me and my powers not in fear or distaste, but in complete fascination.

I wanted us to join that state of bliss together—and so I embraced her nipples and clit in burning starlight, enveloping them in the most peaceful type of darkness, and I urged it to stimulate her. She stared at me open-mouthed, as if she'd realized what I'd done. I simply smiled back at her.

_Come with me, Feyre darling._

My words seemed to have the desired effect, because she held me closer, moaning in sync with me and thrusting up back against me. I don't know what she saw, or even if she even saw anything at all, but she cupped my face in her hands, seeming determined to keep looking at me until we both came. I understood the feeling—I wanted to watch her too.

And so we kept moving, faster, faster, faster. Harder, harder, harder. Until I tensed up and exploded inside her; and she contracted around me, eliciting the deepest moan from inside my being and dragging out my pleasure. Watching her expressions while she came, I thought I might come undone again then and there. Our cries merged and blended together around us as I collapsed on top of her, careful not to smash her.

"Feyre," was all I managed to get out. The answer to every question I'd ever made.

We stayed like that, joined together until our breathing became steadier.

And when I pulled away from her, my soul instantly recoiled at her sudden absence. It felt exactly like opening a window during winter.

Laying side by side, it seemed like reality was finally catching up to us. Feyre was quiet, and I'd stepped away from her mind to give her privacy. But I didn't have to be in it to know what she was thinking—to know she was considering the sacrifice she might have to make tomorrow.

I felt sick to my stomach.

"You don't have to do it, Feyre."

"I know."

A while passed before we spoke again.

"Are you okay?", I asked, afraid to hear her answer. But she sounded calm and at peace when she talked.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." Though _okay_ didn't seem to suffice.

She must've heard or sensed my hesitation and sudden worry that she'd somehow regretted it now, because she added, "I'm glad we did this."

"Yeah?", I turned to look at her, my tone pouring out relief, but also uncertainty.

"Yeah. I don't know what I'll be facing tomorrow. But I know I'll face it more easily because of you... Or at least less saddened."

My chest ached at her words.

"Feyre..."

"Don't. I...", she sighed, "I won't do anything I don't have to. But I _will_ do what I need to."

As I watched her, listened to her, I wondered if that's how my friends had felt when I'd stayed behind with Amarantha. When I chose to endure what I did for the greater good. Of course, Tarquin was nothing like Amarantha. But Feyre wasn't a tenth of my age and was already strong enough to make that decision. I wouldn't make it harder on her by questioning it.

"Alright."

She finally faced me back. "For what it's worth... this isn't how I'd wanted it to be. When we finally did it."

And just like that, hope ignited again inside me, settling in my tissues, electrifying my soul. Feyre had considered—no, had been sure that we would've had a first time. That we would've gotten together at some point. Of course, that didn't answer the question of whether this was all there was to it, but it was enough to make me glow on the inside. For now, it was enough.

"For what it's worth, me neither," I plied.

And so she smiled. Not like she'd smiled at Tarquin, not with that excitement and joy. No. But somehow it felt more... genuine. Gracious. Breathtaking. And when she grabbed my hand in hers, I smiled back.

"We have a long day tomorrow," she pondered.

"We do," I sighed. 

My thumb caressed the back of her hand for a long time as we stared at the ceiling, tired and sweaty and contemplating. There was a strange but somehow peaceful melancholy in the air. 

Unwillingly, I let go of her hand and stood up, summoning my pants back on and heading to the little table against the far wall, knocking back a glass of some amber liquid I trusted would offer at least some comfort in all of this.

I didn't want to bring back the subject, or even be considering it at that point, after everything that had gone down since then, but... it was bubbling underneath my skin, begging to be let out.

I braced my hands on the table, feeling my wings struggling to take form as I considered it.

"I heard what you told him," I said. "That you thought it would be easy to fall in love with him. You meant it, too."

Feyre sat up, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. Gods, I shouldn't have brought it up.

"So?", she asked. Not mad, not judging, just... lacking the words.

"I was jealous—of that," I managed to get out. "That I'm not... that sort of person. For anyone. The Summer Court has always been neutral; they only showed backbone during those years Under the Mountain. I spared Tarquin's life because I'd heard how he wanted to even out the playing field between High Fae and lesser faeries. I've been trying to do that for years. Unsuccessfully, but... I spared him for that alone. And Tarquin, with his neutral court... he will never have to worry about someone walking away because the threat against their life, their children's lives, will always be there. So, yes, I was jealous of him—because it will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish."

The words came streaming out of me like a violent river current. I had no idea how long they had been stuck inside me. I had no idea one day I'd have someone I'd be comfortable sharing them with.

And Tarquin... he was everything I wish I could be for Feyre. Protection. Support. Safety. And me... with all my unyielding and unconditional love—I still wasn't the best for her. I still wasn't deserving of her. Maybe it was selfish of me to even consider myself an option, when I could be putting her entire life and future in jeopardy.

My mate... she deserved better. That beautiful female, now wrapped up in blue sheets, walking over to me with such caring and understanding eyes. Silver shimmering eyes, I realized. But she didn't look at me as she took the decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a knuckle's length, then refilled mine.

Then she met my stare as she clinked my glass against hers, the crystal ringing clear and bright over the crashing sea far below, and, to my surprise, she said, "To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys."

I picked up my glass, gazing at her in devout wonder and amazement. Her cheeks took on a pinkish color. Mother above, how long had I waited for her. How much had I wished upon the stars for her. And to my utter perplexity, she turned out being so much more than I could have ever hoped. Than I could have ever dreamed.

I clinked my glass against hers.

"To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Comments and kudos are welcomed
> 
> I’ve been binge-writing one-shots, so feel free to request any Feysand or Rowaelin fanfics you’d like to read :)


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